


maybe heaven is a place on earth

by hartbreaker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27924679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hartbreaker/pseuds/hartbreaker
Summary: "So, last night on Earth, huh?"Or: Dean makes good on an old promise.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 83





	maybe heaven is a place on earth

**Author's Note:**

> Seeing the aftermath of the finale and Destielgate on tumblr got me feeling nostalgic about these two idiots, so enjoy!

It’s the end of the world as they know it … again.

Does it really matter at this point who they’re fighting? They’re all the same, in the end. Sometimes their faces blurred together in his nightmares, Azazel became Lilith became Lucifer became his own damn face became an endless procession of ageless monstrous beings who all want to see the world burn and why did it always fall to _him_ to stop them?

They’re once again in some shitty, smelly motel room and really, some things never change, do they? Sam is in the room next door sleeping, something Dean knows he should be doing too, but he’s too on edge. So instead he and Cas are sitting shoulder to shoulder on the room’s singular bed, drinking lukewarm beers and watching sitcom reruns on cable tv in silence. The silence is familiar, welcoming. Dean knows that Cas doesn’t sleep, doesn’t need to drink, that his presence here is purely voluntary, and for that Dean is grateful.

The show they’re watching goes to commercial. “So … last night on Earth, huh?” Dean asks, taking a sip from his beer and stifling a bitter laugh because, really, how many last nights can a guy have?

Cas smiles down into his own beer. “I seem to recall another “last night” many years ago, in a place very similar to this one,” he says looking around the tiny room.

“Oh, yeah? What was so special about that one?”

“Well, for starters you made a promise not to let me die a virgin.”

Dean chokes on his drink and tries to sputter out a response, cheeks burning hot. “I, uh, I did say that, didn’t I? But what a night that turned out to be, huh?” He says, nudging Cas with his shoulder. He thinks back to that night, the two of them hurrying out of that strip club, Dean laughing hysterically and Cas grinning back in reply. It was probably the first time the two of them had had fun together as just friends, not allies trying to save the world.

Cas smiles and nods. “Indeed.” Silence falls between them, and Dean turns his attention back to the tv. Suddenly, Cas speaks again. “Did you really mean that?” The voice is much closer, and Dean turns to find Cas’ face mere inches away, icy blue gaze fixed upon Dean. He thinks of cracking a joke about personal space, but his mouth is suddenly incredibly dry.

And then Cas is leaning forward to close the distance between them, pressing their lips together, and _holy shit they’re kissing._ Dean feels his brain short circuit for a moment and then he’s moving on instinct, kissing back with a ferocity he didn’t know had been hiding within him. Thoughts of _what are you doing, it’s Cas,_ flit through his head, are quickly replaced by others, said with relief, with surety: _It’s Cas._

They pull apart for air, chests rising and falling in rhythm.

“Was that okay?” Cas asks. Soft. Gentle. Like he didn’t just turn Dean’s world on its axis. Dean stares at him, at this face that he’s known for both so long and so little, this person he feels he knows like the back of his hand and yet who still manages to surprise him. His ally. His friend. One of only two people he would trust with his life. Was it really worth ruining all of that?

Yet in all the places of his mind where Dean tries to find a reason to say no, some shred of regret for the kiss, he finds nothing. Nothing but exhilaration and a sense of _finally._

Screw it. Screw the apocalypse. Screw everything. He wants this, and he wants it _now._

“Shut up and kiss me,” he growls, pulling Cas back to him.

Their lips crash together once more, hungry and urgent, years of unsaid feelings spilling out in this one action. Clothes crash to the floor with abandon and he has no ideas where their beers have ended up, but who the hell cares because all he knows is he needs Cas. Needs Cas’ hands tangled in his hair, lips trailing from his mouth to his neck, needs to breathe in this sensation like it’s air.

He somehow finds the restraint to pull away long enough to stoop to untie his boots. When he turns back Cas is lounged back against the pillows, tie and trench coat gone, shirt undone, lips pink and swollen and a fresh hickey on his neck, Dean can’t help but stare.

Cas catches him staring, cants his head in his characteristic tilt. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s just,” Dean gestures awkwardly at Cas’ general state of undress. “Never seen you like this before.”

He sees worry knit itself on Cas’ face as the other man sits up. “I’m sorry, I-”

“No, Cas, you’re fine,” Dean interrupts, desperate not to ruin this. He sits down on the bed and takes Cas’ hand. For some reason the gesture strikes him as incredibly intimate, despite the fact that Cas’ tongue was in his mouth not two minutes ago. “You look... You look beautiful.” He’s surprised with the ease that the words roll off his tongue, but he means them.

Cas smiles back and squeezes Dean’s hand. “You know, before I came to Earth I never understood human notions of beauty. To be honest, you all sort of looked the same to me. But when I met you …” He trails off and looks up to meet Dean’s gaze, slowly bringing a hand up to cup his face. Dean can’t help but lean into the touch. “When I met you, I could finally see why humans would say you were all crafted in His image.”

“Cas …”

Cas blinks one, twice, and then says: “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Dean reacts like he’s been kicked in the leg, tearing his hand away and trying to hide the string of rejection from showing on his face. 

Cas sees this and is quick to reach back for Dean’s hand. “No, no, I misspoke. I -” He stops, considers his words, starts over. “Did you know we were never supposed to meet? My job was simply to resurrect you from Hell and nothing more. But raising a soul from Hell isn’t a simple task. It requires reassembling a person piece by piece. Their memories. Their _soul._ By the time you returned to life, I felt as though I knew you as deeply as I knew myself.” He pauses and takes a deep breath, looking to see if Dean will interject. He doesn’t. “When we first met in that barn, I did not have to come when you called. I should not have. And yet I did, because I wanted to know you, the man so important God Himself ordered him saved. You intrigued me, more than any human I’ve ever watched has. And every moment since that day that I’ve stayed was because of you.

“When I say we shouldn’t do this, I’m not saying it because I don’t want to. I’m saying it because I shouldn’t. A bond like ours … it should not exist. And yet it does.” His gaze shifts fro Dean’s face to his shoulder, to the handprint indelibly seared into the skin. He considers the mark for a moment, then reaches out a hand to press against it, a key perfectly fitting into a lock. Dean can’t help but shudder. “You changed me, Dean. For a long time I resisted that fact, because I thought it a flaw.” He locks eyes with Dean once more, slides his hand gently away from the mark and down Dean’s arm, until their hands are intertwined. “But it’s not.”

He catches sight of Dean’s dumbstruck expression and looks away sheepishly. “This is a lot. I’m sorry. I know this isn’t how these things usually go.”

Dean swallows around the lump in his throat. “No, no, you’re fine.” It’s not like he’s not accustomed to Cas making grandiose speeches and talking about their “profound bond” but this … This was Cas laying his soul bare before Dean and they now stood on a precipice, about to plummet into territory completely foreign to them both. Did he dare jump?

“I actually … You’ve changed me too, Cas. I mean, you’re the only man I’ve ever …” He stops, even now not willing to rip off that particular bandage. Maybe if they survive tomorrow. “Well, let’s just say you’re not the only one crossing boundaries tonight.” There are a thousand other thoughts swirling in his mind, words he wants to say but can’t, that gather in his throat and suffocate him, the consequences of speaking them into existence too terrifying to even consider. He’s always been allergic to feelings, and even at the end of the world, this is all that he’s willing to give. He hopes it’s enough.

Cas smiles at him and Dean returns it and for a few seconds they just hover in this moment. Who knew what would happen tomorrow? Dean’s learned enough from his lifetime of danger that nothing was certain, so you should take the happiness when it came. And if that happiness involved Cas, that was good enough for him.

“Now,” Dean says, clearing his throat and standing up to dramatically whip his belt out from his belt loops. “I said I’d make your last night on Earth a great one and I intend to make good on that promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr!](https://roguespeedster.tumblr.com/)


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